


Playmates in Every Walk of Life

by Sargentpepper23



Series: Trapped, but along for the ride [7]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Embarrassment, Ever also drinks to find courage, Ever drinks to forget, F/M, Hand Jobs, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sargentpepper23/pseuds/Sargentpepper23
Summary: It was official.  There is not enough bleach, therapy, or alcohol in the world to rid herself of the memory of Eustass Kid’s bare ass.Or, in other news,Ever walks in on something slightly traumatizing, Ralph gets paid to be sneaky, and Killer learns more than he bargained for about the little lady living down the hall.
Relationships: Killer (One Piece)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Trapped, but along for the ride [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1443649
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Playmates in Every Walk of Life

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is absolutely ridiculous and was a blast to write. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Sometimes, it’s the little things in life that make it worth living. In Ever’s case, jammin’ out to music is one of them.

Bobbing her head to the rock song blaring through her headphones, she whipped a shampoo bottle out of her shower caddy and struck a pose in the middle of the empty hallway, whisper-shouting the chorus into her impromptu microphone. 

It was 8:32am, no longer early by ship standards, but she was being considerate for all parties involved. First off, _no one_ wanted to hear the caterwauling she called singing at any time of the day. Second, at breakfast, most of the crew had been hunched painfully over their morning coffee, still reeking of the bars and whorehouses they had visited the night before.

Spinning on her toes and pointing to a nonexistent crowd, Ever ended up shimmying her shoulders and shaking her hips to the drummer’s upbeat tempo as she drew near Kid's quarters. Still grooving, albeit, at a slower pace, she reluctantly slipped the shampoo back and fumbled around in her beach bag for a red key. Almost four months into her stay with the pirates, Kid had thrust the new key into her hands, having finally grown sick and tired of her asking him or Killer to unlock his door so she could shower.

Now, here’s the thing. Within that time, it had become habit for her to shower at 8:30. The timing was perfect. Kid was always up on deck by then, and the one time she had slept in late and showered at 9:00, he had given her shit about it all day, having sensed her iron cuff fiddling with his showerhead later than usual.

So, still jammin’, Ever stuck her key in the handle and threw open the door, expecting an empty room, and the usual bright green, “ _Don’t fuck with my shit_ ” post-it note stuck to a mahogany bedpost.

Today, Kid was not gone, and the post-it note was on the floor, crushed under someone’s boot treads.

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Ever was greeted to a sight that would haunt her life.

In total, there were four people in the room. Ever was inside the doorway, desperately grasping for the handle that had swung out of reach. Kid was kneeling on the end of his bed, buck-ass naked and thrusting with abandon into a woman bent over on fisted hands and quivering knees. The woman, clad in nothing but ripped thigh highs, was enthusiastically rolling her hips back into Kid’s thrusts. Her back was arched, her large breasts rocked, and her thick lavender hair was wrapped in the captain’s punishing grip. Head tilted back, any noises of pleasure she might have cried out were muffled by the dick in her mouth. Kneeling at the head of the bed, and naked except for his mask, Killer was using both hands to hold the woman steady as he slammed his dick down her throat over, and over, and ov—

Scrambling to shut the door and get the fuck out of there before they noticed, Ever nearly had a stroke when Killer looked her way. The man froze on the spot, his groin flush with full, rose-colored lips, and while she didn’t hear him speak thanks to the rocker screaming in her ear, he snarled over the woman choking on his dick, “Oh fuck, Ever-“

_SLAM!_

She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Hands shaking, Ever ripped her key out of the handle and took off down the hall. In her haste to shove the key back in her bag, her headphone wire caught on her thumb, and she unceremoniously ripped them out of her ears. Further horrified by the noises echoing behind her, she shoved them back in, drowning out what was clearly the sounds of men grunting, and a bed creaking and groaning in distress.

Skidding around the corner to a stop before her door, she dropped her own key twice before managing to get inside and barricade the entrance with her dresser. There was no way in hell she wanted to speak to anyone right now. She needed time to process what the actual fuck she had just walked in on. Shit, she didn’t know if she was mad, embarrassed, or both.

Tossing aside her headphones, she dropped her bag and caddie at the foot of her bed, sat down, and oh so dramatically shrieked her feelings into a pillow.

It was official. There is not enough bleach, therapy, or alcohol in the world to rid herself of the memory of Eustass Kid’s bare ass. Similarly, she would never forget the way Killer’s abs clenched with every thrust as he forced his dick down- _FUCK! STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!_

Kicking off her sandals, she curled up on the mattress. This is ridiculous. She was acting ridiculous, but this is _mortifying_. She had walked in on them going to fucking pound town on someone, and she couldn’t even be mad at them because it was her fault. Sure, it would have been nice if Kid had the common decency to put a fucking sock on the door (not that he ever would), but he shouldn’t have to because that’s _his_ room _._ It didn’t matter that she couldn’t hear them. It was rude to assume she could walk in whenever she damn well pleased.

Embarrassed, and pissed more at herself than anyone else, Ever wrapped her legs comfortably around her comforter and wrestled her fluffy pillow into submission against her chest, more than resigned to spend the day in bed avoiding the two clowns she called superior officers. She didn’t know how long she lay there, contemplating various ways to induce amnesia. All she knew is that when someone did knock on her door, it was far too soon.

With a glare, she popped her head up from the mattress, hoping whoever was out there would have better sense than to knock again. They didn’t, and they knocked louder this time, “Ever, it’s me.” _Ralph._

Grumbling to herself, she crawled out of her makeshift nest and stopped before her dresser, “Why are you here, Ralph,” she asked.

The man grouched back, “You didn’t come to lunch, so I made you a plate.” There was a sound of silverware clinking against glass, “It’s your favorite,” he continued.

Ever’s eyes narrowed. _Yeah, he fucking knows. He brought me a pity meal._

Ralph, the smart man, convinced her to let him in by saying, “I brought a bottle of rum. It’s a good one too.”

Scowling but definitely needing a drink, time of day be damned, she dragged her dresser back and unlocked the door, cracking it just in case _others_ were out there.

Thankfully, no one but Ralph was in the hall. The temporary chef hovered in the doorway, gently waving a very nice bottle of rum at her, “It’s just me. No one else.”

She rolled her eyes but let him in. Again, Ralph, such a smart man, cracked the unopened bottle and poured each of them a glass. He went to toast, but Ever had already downed half of it. Snorting, he set his untouched drink down on her dresser and asked, “Really, you didn’t hear them”?

She ripped her drink away from her mouth, “Of course I didn’t hear them! My music was so loud, a bomb could have gone off, and I would still be dancin’, none the wiser”!

He swapped the glass in her hand for a steaming plate of spaghetti carbonara, “Eat,” his tone brokered no debate, “and turn that racket you call music down. You’re gonna blow out your eardrums, or worse, walk in on another threesome,” he finished with a good-natured smirk.

She swore profusely and sat down on her bed, settling the warm plate on her lap, “Dammit Ralph, I finally stopped thinking about it, and you just _had_ to bring it up.”

Eager to devour the downright heavenly smelling food before her, Ever twirled the pasta around her fork and went to take a bite, only to hesitate. Lowering the utensil, she peered suspiciously at the chef, “Did you make this out of the kindness of your own heart, or were you ordered to make it”?

At that moment, her thoughts very much like a petulant child, Ever decided that if Ralph was ordered to make the mouthwatering dish in front of her, she wasn’t going to eat it. Why? Because goddammit it's the principle of the matter. If he was ordered to, that meant those assholes felt as if they had done something wrong, and instead of apologizing for whatever slight they believed they had committed, they were going to try and buy back her favor with good food. Which, much to her chagrin, they had learned was a quick and easy way to earn it.

Ralph’s eyes shined with mirth when he answered, tone suspiciously chipper, “Neither, Killer made it."

_Well, fuck._

Ralph’s revelation _should_ have been a fucking dilemma.

This was obviously an apology meal. Killer had taken the time to cook her favorite dish because he felt guilty about something, which was stupid. After all, there was nothing to forgive. She was by no means upset with the first mate’s shenanigans. In fact, good for him for fucking the shit out of someone. He has a rockin’ bod, and might as well use it. _Now, if he could just fuck the shit out of me- NO!_ She quickly squashed and wrestled that thought back into a box to unwrap later.

 _Ehem,_ back to her dilemma. On the other hand, even though this was an apology meal, _Killer_ was the one who made it. The man created nothing short of masterpieces in the kitchen, and Ever would gladly fistfight someone for a single bite of his cooking. In fact, she had once. Fox still had the scars on the back of his hand, courtesy of her stabbing him with a fork when he dared to stick his wandering fingers near her spaghetti and meatballs.

So, with her all-time favorite meal sitting in her lap, cooked by the man she desperately wants to sleep with and may or may not be developing feelings for, Ever only hesitated for a moment before digging in.

Ralph grinned, “So, you forgive him,” he asked, turning to leave.

She chewed slowly, savoring the rich taste, and said the next part between bites, “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m the one who walked in on them, so I should be the one to apologize.”

Still, it was weird that Killer was apologizing to her in such a roundabout way. From the rare cases he had been in the wrong, he was upfront about it. So, this is either a very shitty apology or only part of it. She felt it was the latter, which unfortunately meant he would corner her later and bring up memories of this morning she would rather forget.

Surprised that Ralph was now out in the hallway, she called after him, “Hey, you didn’t finish your drink.”

“Nah, I didn’t. I’m just here to butter you up. He’ll finish it for me,” he said with a smirk, clapping someone on the shoulder as he left.

At that moment, Ever realized what this had been all along. A trap. A fucking trap and she fell hook, line, and sinker for it.

_Nononononono-_

Killer stalked in, all gorgeous hair, calming presence, and snug jeans that corralled a now very memorable dick.

_God. Fucking. Dammit._

Her cheeks flamed, and she looked down at her lap, by no means ready for the torture session ahead.

He stopped before her, and when she still didn’t acknowledge him, his boot came forward to gently knock her foot, “Everly, look at me,” he said gently.

She scowled at his use of her full name but didn't rise to the bait. He may be ready to talk about his morning sexcapades, but she wasn’t, not yet at least. She needed a drink or two before that.

Besides, she and Killer are strictly friends, not bros who brag about their latest conquests. Not that she imagined he'd say much. He doesn't seem like a kiss and tell kind of guy. 

Still, to some extent, she was curious about what went on behind closed doors, with and without Kid’s presence. She’d have to ask whoever was on watch this morning if homegirl was able to walk off the ship after spending a night with those two.

Clicking her tongue in frustration, Ever knew the first mate wasn’t going to leave until he got an answer. So, with a deep breath, she willed herself to look up at him because goddammit he deserves a sincere apology, and tried to end the conversation before it even began, “I’m sorry I… disturbed you guys earlier. It was my fault, and it won’t happen again.” She bit back the urge to spout her excuses, and continued, “And thank you for lunch. You didn’t have to do that.” 

The waves lapping against the hull filled the silence. However, the rhythmic noise did little to drown out her inner voice shrieking that _that_ is definitely the barest trace of lipstick smeared on his left collarbone, and his hair is all messed up, and _Jesus does he not know how to look presentable after a fuck? No, he probably has no shame, which, if true, is kinda hot…_ _FUCK, DON’T THINK LIKE THAT!_

Killer, seemingly unaware of her lecherous thoughts, stood there for what seemed like forever before he said with a sigh, “Yes, I did.”

Wary, she watched him grab his drink off the dresser and sit down next to her, mindfully leaving plenty of space between them.

She kept an eye on him as he slipped a straw into his glass but didn’t drink from it, his fingers idly chasing the plastic around in circles. “We didn’t plan on her being with us that late. She was… distracting.”

Her mouth twitched traitorously upward at his word choice. _That’s one way to fucking put it._

“You probably never wanted to see that.”

_Maybe. The jury’s still out on that._

“-and Kid says that’s what you get for barging in unannounced-“

_Oh, without a doubt._

“In the future, I’ll try and be more mindful of the time-“

Ever cut him off at that ridiculous comment, “Don’t you dare,” she scoffed. Moving her plate off her lap, she tossed back her drink and turned towards him, throat burning, “You and Kid fuck who you want, when you want. _I’m_ the one who needs to pay attention.”

“Even so, I’m sor—“

“NO,” he flinched at her outburst, “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.” She wagged a finger at the door and said, “The only apology I want, but will never get or deserve to have is from Kid. His pale ass has traumatized me for life.”

Killer huffed, amused, only to ask half-serious, “But my ass didn’t—“

The noise that came out of her mouth was not human, but got her point across, “Please stop talking,” she half-begged, eyes cast firmly down towards her empty glass.

A wolfish grin settled under his mask and grew when she peered up with flushed cheeks and dark eyes, “I saw more of you than I cared today.”

Liar. They both knew it, but he'd let this one slide.

Even to his ears, his voice sounded something wicked when he drawled, “Threesomes get you hot and bothered, Ever”?

He nearly cracked his glass when she answered, unashamed, “Yeah, they do.”

_… WHAT?_

She ignored the stare boring into the side of her head as she idly traced the uneven rim of her drink, “At least, the idea of them does. From what I’ve seen, I’m not sure if I’d like it in practice.”

Killer was suddenly aware his sweat-wicking shirt was doing _nothing_ to combat the heat radiating off of him, and his hair clung uncomfortably to the back of his neck as Ever explained that this was _not_ the first threesome she’d walked in on.

“A former roommate of mine liked to get around, and one time, she didn’t give me a heads up that we had “guests” over.”

“You didn’t hear them,” he managed to ask without sounding like he was losing his mind, which he very nearly was. The thought of Ever panting and moaning, unabashedly sandwiched between two faceless men—

She tentatively reached for his drink, and he allowed the cool glass to slip into her hand, goosebumps skittering up his arm as his fingers grazed hers. Unable to turn away, Killer’s eyes followed the smooth bob of her throat as she polished off another round. Setting both glasses down on the stained floor, her cheeks were a rosy pink when she looked at him, amused, “No, I didn’t hear them. My roommate had a ball gag in her mouth, our neighbor was balls deep in her ass, gnawing at her neck like a shark, and I swear the other guy was searching for gold between her tits.”

How Killer had ever thought Ever was a prude was beyond him. She may blush and stammer like a shy virgin at times, but she’s dirtier than everyone believes her to be, even after the coconut incident.

“At least you guys put on a better show,” she continued casually, as if comparing threesomes was an everyday occurrence for her, “The three of them had no rhythm, and they humped away at each other like a couple of epileptic rabbits.”

“Oh,” he replied dumbly, because what else could he say? The conversation had taken a turn he had not expected, the rum having done its job too well and shaken off more than just her nerves. It was loosening that filthy tongue of hers, and she seemed dead set on informing the assassin to what was obviously the truth.

“You know, you guys had a pretty good rhythm going. Is it from practice or that strange, best friend telepathy you got going on”?

A bead of sweat rolled down his back and into his jeans. This was getting out of hand. He needed her to stop talking before she said something else, something that would undoubtedly add fuel to the fire already burning in his gut.

Ever chewed her lip in thought, and most of _his_ rational thought went right out the fucking window. The rough treatment to her already pink lips only made them darker in color as she pondered, “Maybe it’s both. There’s no way you guys could pull that off on the fly. You were in perfect sync”!

Killer shifted his hips. Had his pants always been this tight? _This is bad. This is really, really bad._

She pursed her lips, now red and puffy from her nibbling, as if she had been sucking coc— “I mean, she looked like a dick shish kabob, with Kid railing her from the back, and you shoving in from the front. Hell, she must have been using the old thumb in fist trick if she was throating you—“

_SLAM!_

Killer was gone before Ever finished her sentence, the faint smell of lemon and sex wafting behind him, and the indent from where he sat still imprinted on her comforter.

Slyly looking at the door Ever’s expression morphed into one that resembled a cat who had eaten the canary.

She was tipsy, _not_ drunk, and she may have laid it on a bit thick with that last comment. This had been the perfect opportunity to fuck with the first mate, and it had gone splendidly.

However, the best part, other than his reaction, was that she had spoken the truth, which would surely fuck with him more. _You say you can tell when I’m lying? Well, guess what, Killer? You just had a whole lot of truth dropped in your lap. Have fun getting the dick shish kabob and deep throating crack out of your head!_

Satisfied she had flipped the situation in her favor, and riled up the typically level-headed first mate to some degree, Ever poured herself another glass of rum and settled back against the wall, lunch in hand. _Now, if I could just get the thought of throating him out of my head, that would be great._

~~~

BONUS

Killer barely remembered tearing his clothes and mask off like a man possessed, or clambering into the shower fifteen minutes ago, its frigid spray not helping in the least to shrink his rock hard dick.

Leaning his forehead against the cool tile, he went through every mental exercise imaginable to banish Ever from his mind. He counted sheep, pictured wrinkly, saggy grandma's naked, and even recalled the unfortunate incident when Heat’s balls were nearly ripped off by a jealous prostitute.

Nothing. Worked.

Weakly pounding his fist against the wall in frustration, he reluctantly slid a hand down to wrap around his cock and began firmly stroking himself.

Paying extra attention to flick his sensitive tip with his thumb, his thoughts drifted to the woman who had caused this, who had put him in this maddening position. Ever, cruel and beautiful, was going to be the death of him one of these days.

He pictured the two of them in her room. Him, sitting on the edge of her mattress, upper body leaned back and supported by his elbows. Ever, on her knees and in between his legs, had her hands resting on his bare thighs, and her tongue circling his crown like one would a lollipop. Playfully licking him one last time, she shot him a smug smirk before fitting the tip of him in her mouth and sinking down, hollowing her cheeks and licking the sensitive vein underneath all the while.

Tightening his grip, Killer muttered a curse and stroked in time to the bobbing of her head as she slowly drew more and more of him into her hot, wet mouth.

His free hand came up next to his face and clawed at the slick tile, searching for purchase when what he really wished is to wrap his fingers in her fine hair. In his fantasies, he’d gently pull her further onto him, at her pace, and at her whim. Control would be nice but not in this dream. In this, he needed something to cling to because whatever the hell she was doing with her tongue and throat could _not_ be legal.

Stifling a groan, he pumped himself faster and thrust into his hand, the pressure inside him building at a rapid pace. If Ever kept doing that, sucking, and licking, and _oh fuck_ humming, he was going to lose it. He was going to-

She looked up at him, the warm and mischievous look in her vivid green eyes his only warning before she took him to the back of her throat, and swallowed.

He came, hard and unexpectedly against the tile, his dream self spilling everything he had down her throat as she continued to swallow around him, not missing a drop.

Jerking himself one last time to the thought of Ever pulling off of him with a lewd _pop,_ only to lick her lips in satisfaction, Killer’s breathing was heavy as he stood under the pouring water, its chill finally seeping into his skin.

Washing away his release, he flicked the shower off with an agitated slap. This is ridiculous. He takes pride in maintaining a calm composure at all times, and here he is jerking off in the bathroom like some horny teenage boy.

_She must have been using the old thumb in fist trick if she was throating you—_

He flipped the shower back on again with a shout, “FUCK”!

**Author's Note:**

> This is strictly a Killer x Original Female Character story. So, for those hoping for a threesome with Ever in the middle, sorry, it's not happening. I'm not opposed to writing something like that in the future, but not in this. 
> 
> P.S. I hope everyone is doing alright in these ever-changing times.


End file.
